A Time For Dancing
by Tragic Ophelia
Summary: You can't hold on to the past forever, but you can't forget it, either (Chlex)


Author: Ally

Title: A Time For Dancing

E-Mail: Leechick@abstractedone.com -or- Insanechica14@aol.com

Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously... WB's, A few others

Rating: Ah, PG... Don't like G

Summary: No dialogue; Chloe looks back on some memorable times; Future Fic; Chloe Journal entry

Spoilers: None, just some... Speculation

Notes: I'm not sure I like how it turned out, so I may revise it sometime in the future

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August 19, 2013

I shuffled through the boxes, finding a box at the very back of the closet marked "Pictures." Lugging the box out of the closet, I dragged it to the living room and sat down on the leather couch, blowing the dust off of the box top. Opening it, I pulled out a stack of pictures. There was one of me and Clark Kent from the Spring Formal freshman year. That was a memory I didn't want to remember.

The next few were various pictures of me, Pete Ross, Lana Lang, and even a few of Lex Luthor, through out my high school career. There weren't anymore of Clark, thank god. After the whole tornado debacle, we really never talked. Sure, I had missed him, but I moved on. Pete and I became a pair, but we never dated.

I pulled out some pictures from my college years. I ended up going to Columbia, majoring in journalism. Now I'm a writer at the New York Times, preparing to move to London to work on the Herald. There were more pictures of me, Pete, Lana, and a few pictures of Lex and me. Smiling at one that Pete took at the park one rainy afternoon, I grinned. It had been on one of my few trips home, and it was while I was dating Lex. I had a framed copy in my office, and everyone loved to comment on the great couple of Chloe and Lex Luthor.

The next few pictures started showing me as a kid. There were pictures of me writing, reading, playing, and dancing. There was a pair of the 13 year-old version of me, in a tutu and a pair of toe shoes. When mom died, I quit dancing. I just couldn't take it anymore. Mom had wanted me to be a dancer, since it had been her dream as a kid, and I... I couldn't turn her down. As I grew, I loved dancing more and more. I knew it wasn't for me, as I wasn't tall, and it would never be my career. I loved it, though, and when I was angry of sad or just happy I'd grab a pair of shoes and dance. 

Standing up, I walked back to the closet I discovered the box of pictures in. After shifting a few more boxes, I came up with what I wanted. I opened the box, and pulled out several costumes. One had been from "Sleeping Beauty." Another was from "Swan Lake." No one from Smallville, save Lex and Pete, ever knew I was a dancer, much less a ballerina. That was a Lana thing. At the bottom of the box, I found what I was looking for. In my hands, I held a pair of satin pink toe shoes. Walking back to the living room, I pushed the box aside and sat on the hardwood floor. I pulled on the shoes, and laced them up. A perfect fit.

I stood up, and tried a few of the easier positions. I then stood on pointe, and did a quick pirouette. I did a few cabrioles, then a few pas de chats. Gliding over to the stereo system, I pulled out a classical CD and put it in. Soon, Vivaldi's "Winter" was playing and I was dancing away. I was doing the last dance I had learned, a dance that Anna Pavlova herself had choreographed. 

Like I wrote, when I was still dancing, I would dance whenever I was overwhelmed or whatever. This is what I had been needing to do for the past thirteen years. Through out those years, I would feel like something was missing. After an encounter with a meteor freak, I would go home, write about it, and still feel empty. After thirteen years, I realized this was what had been missing.

Hearing clapping from the doorway, I turned around, and stopped dancing. Lex was standing in the doorway, watching me. He walked across the room, and wrapped his arms around me. I buried my head in his shoulder and started crying softly. After pulling away, I sat down and took off my toe shoes. I left them out on the table, reassuring myself that no matter what, there would always be a time for dancing.

*~*Fin*~*


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